Other Pairings
by Jennistar1
Summary: Pellinor fics, all pairings other than Maerad/Cadvan because they get enough! Some of them are horribly wrong, that is why the rating is quite high...
1. MaeradSharma

NB: This is the fault of the dudes on sffworld

NB: This is the fault of the dudes on sffworld…I would never have tried weird pairings if we hadn't been discussing it…and now you must live with the weirdness!

I don't own the characters! And yes, every single pairing is wrong! (It is only M & C which is right…M&C FATE!)

**Maerad and Sharma**

The hall was dark, darker than night, darker than all nights melded into one. Maerad paced through it, her heart pounding in her throat, to where the dais was, upon which sat the throne of the Nameless One.

_Elednor of Edil-Amarandh_, a voice said mockingly in her head, sounding unexpectedly sweet and soft. _So finally you come._

Maerad paused unsteadily at the edge of the dais, then pulled her shoulders back and stared with all her ferocity at the dark shape within the throne.

"I have come to rid the world of your evil, once and for all, Sharma!"

_Evil?_

The dark shape – not quite a solid figure, not quite a ghost – rose from the throne and walked down the steps on the dais almost lazily towards Maerad.

_Evil?_ said the sweet voice again. _You think me evil?_

"You – you have done evil things." Maerad's voice seemed to come out in a rattling whisper; she couldn't breathe. She could feel the presence of Sharma leaking from all edges of the hall into her soul, and it was suffocating her with…sweetness.

Yes. Sweetness. Not fear. Sweetness.

And sadness.

_I am not evil,_ said Sharma. _I am lonely and I am sad. Many do evil things because they are lonely or sad. You did. To do evil things does not mean the doer is evil themselves. There can be other forces at play than just simple evil._

He was too close to her now; she could feel that ferocity inside her melting away into something else – pity. Yes, a deep and impenetrable pity.

He was bewitching her! Just like – the – Winterking –

But she had forgotten Arkan now. She had forgotten everything, everyone. Cadvan, Hem, Saliman – all of them gone from her mind. She could only think of him, Sharma, the pitiable one in the darkness…

"I – " she heard herself gasp. "I – "

_Come,_ Sharma said softly, so close to her now that the sweet sadness was like a perfume wafting over her, drowning her other senses and befuddling her mind. _Come, Elednor of Edil-Amarandh – let me show you my sadness._

Lips – lips of darkness, insubstantial and yet perfectly solid lips – pressed onto hers, and she was instantly lost – lost – lost in that darkness…with him.

_Oh,_ she thought foggily, _I have been taken over again. I let it happen again._

And that was her last thought, before the night overwhelmed her and all that she remembered or knew faded away into forgetfulness – until only Sharma and the darkness and the sweetness was left in her mind…forever.

BTL, that is sooooo wrong…Review! Tell me how weird I am! Seriously! It makes me larf! :D


	2. EnkirSharma

NB: This pairing is even worse

NB: This pairing is even worse…but somehow one of my favourite fics…Again, I don't own 'em…

**Enkir and Sharma**

He only did it for one person; that was all he did it for – all the killings, the lies, the betrayal, all for one person. He wasn't even sure if _it _was a person – perhaps _it_ was just a feeling he got when _it_ was around…perhaps this feeling had just been created by _it_ in the first place and wasn't real, none of it…

But he would rip apart worlds if _it_ enabled him to feel that feeling just one more time.

He stepped into the dark hall, that overwhelming, soul-searching darkness, that void, his heart vanishing beneath his anticipation and intimidation, and felt his self slip under _its_ soul.

_Enkir of Norloch_, said that voice, that beautiful, terrifyingly sweet voice, that voice which he would do anything for. _Welcome_.

He bowed, his spine tingling at the action. _Its_ eyes were everywhere, he knew it, eyes in the darkness watching him – with desire, with hatred, it didn't matter, they still watched him and that was all he cared about…

"My Lord," he said, and couldn't help himself adding, "My _Great_ Lord…"

_It_ moved; he couldn't see _it_, not in this blackness, but his nerves were already so heightened that he thought he would be able to sense if the clouds moved an inch above the great ceiling above. His head clouded, as if he had drunk too much wine, and he welcomed it – it was like welcoming an old friend.

_You have done well this week, Enkir,_ said that devastating voice. _Innail taken also…very good._

He was too deep into it to mumble anything but, "My Lord…" through trembling lips. It felt as though cold liquid metal was pumping through his veins in place of blood, spreading through him like branches of trees, wrapping around his throat, around his mind, pulling him deeper into this beautiful madness.

_You have not found the One, though._

A sudden pain, a deep agony, piercing him sharper than any metal would. He gasped, the pressure on his throat leaving him unable to utter a sound, and collapsed to his knees, suddenly flesh and bone again. It was magical, he thought as he writhed in distress on the cold, stone floor, magical to feel this pain…to feel _it_ so deep in him…making him struggle with a strange joy and fear…oh, he could feel this forever, forever…

The pain stopped, leaving him gasping, half in agony, half in mind-obliterating desire.  
He realised the darkness was closer – _it_ was closer to him, exciting his nerves with almost painful lust.

_Ah, Enkir,_ crooned that captivating voice. _When will you obey me?_

"I – " He could say no more; the sadness of it was too much for him to bear. He wished to die, he would rather die than feel this guilt…

_I know I am being unfair._ Fingers – well, not exactly fingers, they couldn't be called fingers, not when they were so inhumanly cold and light, but at least a touch – on his chin, raising him up to face the darkness looming above.

My heaven, he thought. I am looking into my heaven.

_She eludes you well,_ sang the voice. _I am sorry, Enkir. But you understand how I want her._

Why? Enkir thought. Not fair…aren't I enough? Isn't this enough? Why don't you want me? You know what I have done for you, what I will do for you, and I can't even tell you. I cannot tell you the word, because you do not believe in it. I cannot tell you how I feel, because you will never feel it – neither for me, nor anybody else. Your heart – if you have one – is empty now. Perhaps you loved before, but you have forgotten how to now, at this time. And yet I will do anything for you…anything. I will never disobey you, I will never do anything to disappoint you. I know this will be my undoing, this will be the darkness that finishes me, yet I run towards it with open arms.

I will do anything for you…my Lord…my love.

He said instead,

"I will – try harder – my Lord."

The darkness rippled above him. Heaven, he thought. Let time stop here for me, let my life end here, let it all freeze, let the mountains fall, the waters dry up, the deserts flood, the trees die – I don't care. I want to spend eternity staring at you.

Oh, kiss me. Just for a moment, a brief moment of your unending time, is it too much to ask? I will die if you kiss me. I wither under your caresses. But I want it…I want it so much…

_Good._ The touch fell from his chin, leaving his skin tingling as if on fire, and the darkness fell away from his sight with a chill that pierced his heart and froze the tingling on his skin.

He struggled to his feet; _it_ reached the throne far on the other side of the hall. _It_ could have been miles away, worlds away.

_You may go, Enkir_, _it_ said. _Next week, the same time._

The same bliss, Enkir thought. The next week, the same time, the same bliss. He could not bear it any longer, being so close and so far. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream his desire to that darkness. But it would be like screaming into the wind.

And he would not miss this meeting for the world, for anybody. Funny how only the darkness mattered in his mind now…funny…

"Next week," he heard himself mutter.

He struggled out of the hall, slipped out of the doors, then fell against the wall and slid down it, his face in his shaking hands, and sat in that crumpled heap for an uncountable amount of time before crawling on.

The next week, the same time, the same bliss.

It would kill him one day, but, for now, it was the only thing that made him live.

You know what, writing this actually made me feel almost sorry for Enkir…reviews are welcomed and wanted anyways!!


	3. CadvanSilvia

NB: I don't own 'em

NB: I don't own 'em…and how come writing this fic felt more wrong than writing the Enkir/Sharma one…?

Oh, I know why…it's because M&C FATE!!

Anywho…

**Cadvan and Silvia**

"Cadvan? A little help please?"

Silvia's insistent voice broke through Cadvan's daydream and he jerked himself away from the kitchen window, where he had been watching Maerad sitting outside, her nose in a book, and turned to her a little foggily.

"Hmm?"

She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, balancing a huge pile of books in her arms rather tentatively, and giving him an agonised look over the top of them.

"A little help, Cadvan!"

"Oh – sorry – "

He reached forward to take some books from her arms, then the door slammed outside the kitchen and Maerad's voice rang through the house, and he stumbled and fell into Silvia, knocking her and the books to the floor with a resounding crash.

"CADVAN!!"

He groaned, trying to shake the cheery chatting of Maerad and Malgorn out of his head.

"Sorry…sorry…"

He dropped to the floor to help Silvia pick up the books, which she was on her knees doing already, muttering under her breath. He caught the words 'stupid' and 'Maerad' and 'infatuated', and tried not to look at her.

"My apologies, Silvia, I wasn't thinking – "

"No, you were too busy with other things." Her voice was level, but he caught the hidden meaning behind it. He decided not to answer, instead inspecting the titles of the books with unnecessary concentration – most of them were ones he remembered he had been mentioning to Maerad during their lessons. Silvia had been witness to the lessons, he realised suddenly, bustling around the kitchen, occasionally adding something he had forgotten…

"Silvia," he said suddenly. "Why do you have these books?"

She picked up a pile and smiled at him, handing them out. "I saw them and remembered you mentioned them to Maerad."

He took the books and smiled back.

"I'm sure they will come in useful. Thank you."

She half shrugged. He realised, abruptly, that they were kneeling in the dust and flour of the kitchen, uncomfortably close to one another. He could hear Maerad's voice outside, growing faint as she walked away, and felt a lump form in his throat.

"You take such an interest in Maerad's welfare," he heard himself say. "You love her well. And I never thought to thank you."

Silvia gave him a sharp, distinctly un-Silvia-like glance, then laughed, her merry tone echoing through the kitchen.

"Why should you thank me, when you love her well also?"

_As a father figure_, Cadvan said to himself hastily, then felt that same sense that he always felt when he thought that, the feeling that this 'father figure' term was not enough to describe the relationship he had with Maerad…it was deeper than that, more complicated. If only he could figure it out…he both hated and loved riddles. And this relationship…well, Maerad had always been a riddle to him.

"Yes," he said. "Well, you are her mother figure. There are some things I cannot provide her with that you can."

"Yes, I noticed that during her menarche," Silvia said wickedly, just to see him go red and mumble incoherently. He took the rest of the books and leafed through them, apparently not hearing her. She leaned closer to him.

"You know she considers you a father figure?"

"Mmph."

This probably meant 'yes'.

"But you do not consider yourself to be that."

He froze, halfway through a paragraph. Was he that obvious – Silvia was astute, he knew, but – maybe he was obvious – By the Light he hoped not…

"So," Silvia said in a decisive tone, making him glance up, his expression carefully blank. "You are the father figure and I am the mother figure."

He kept his expression blank, non-committal. He couldn't even hear a faint echo of Maerad's voice in the house anymore – it felt like she had abandoned him to this.

"Well, then…" Silvia said. "I wonder…"

And then she leaned forward and kissed him softly, so softly that he barely felt it, on the lips. His eyes closed automatically, but she had pulled away before he did it, and was already back on her feet by the time they opened again, brushing herself off and smiling down at him half shyly.

He stared at her from down at the floor.

"You are a great man, Cadvan of Lirigon," she said fondly, without a hint of sadness or jealousy in her voice. "That little family situation is a nice thought…but it is only a thought. I am the mother figure, yes, but you…"

Cadvan thought he should break eye contact at this point, but he was unable to. He stared at Silvia as if she were some sort of goddess pronouncing judgement on him – she saw so much, he thought…could she see better than he? Could she see what Maerad felt…?

He waited for her to unravel the secrets of this dreadful mystery and enthralling riddle to him, but all she said was,

"A great man and a great Bard, Cadvan. I just want you to know that I have always thought that."

And then she left the kitchen, she left him kneeling there, staring at the space where she had been, the books – her gifts – littered all around him and the silence of the room surrounding him like nothing else had ever done before.

Oh, ew…that was wrong. Anyway, review my dears! Or I'll make them – well!


	4. CadvanDernhil

NB: Cadvan/Dernhil slash

NB: Cadvan/Dernhil slash!! You can thank Ingu for putting the idea in my head on sffworld…yes, this contains homosexuality, so if that offends you look away NOW and please don't flame me afterwards, I did give you fair warning. None of the characters belong to me. This is written on the spot, so forgive any typos or crap-os…I happen to quite like this fic…but then I am a fag-hag…

Enjoy! :)

**My Friend**

He didn't want to do it. He stood outside the door for ages, staring blankly at the doorknob, telling himself that he had to do it, wishing he did not. He had become such a coward, he thought, ever since the…

No. Not ever since Ceredin's death. He had been a coward before that. He had always been a coward. A cowardly, selfish, arrogant boy who couldn't see past his own ambitions, who had been so engrossed in himself that he had forgotten everything else, _everyone_ else…

And now she was dead, and he had been her killer. He was the reason she no longer breathed on this earth, he was the reason her voice did not sound in the corridors of Lirigon anymore, he was the reason that the entire School was in mourning, it was all _him, him, him_ and his ridiculous cowardliness. And that man behind that door was an innocent in all of this, as innocent as Ceredin had been, and as undeserving of his pain as she also, and even with all Cadvan had been through, he still could not muster up the courage to go in there and say the simple words…

_I'm sorry._

How inadequate those words were, he thought grimly. How foolish and silly and stupid those two little words were. _I'm sorry._ He had been saying it since he had woken into this nightmare, to Nelac, to Ceredin's parents, to Ceredin's friends, to even the lifeless form of Ceredin herself, saying those idiotic words which meant nothing to them…

He could not say what he felt. He could not tell them exactly how sorry he was, there were no words for it, no words could possibly be created ever to explain how he felt…

_I'm sorry. _A ridiculous thing to say. A tiny thing to say. The only thing that he _could_ say.

He put his hand on the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door and peeking through before he could run away.

The room was lit, but it was with the grey light of dawn, draining everything of colour. He lay in a bed in the middle of the room, propped up on pillows, a white cover tucked tightly around him, his naked chest bandaged up, his eyes on the window where the dull light was streaming through. He turned his head at the sound of the door opening, and smiled a smile as faint and as pale as a ghost's.

He looked deathly, Cadvan thought. Deathly, and it was all his fault.

"Dernhil," he said.

The dark eyes remained steady on him, the smile stayed in place. Cadvan looked quickly at the ground, waiting for Dernhil to realise fully who it was standing there and scream for him to get out, get out _and never see me again_ like he had been doing in Cadvan's nightmares…when he slept.

"Come in," said Dernhil. His voice was scratchy but clear.

Cadvan stared at him, for the moment dumbfounded.

"D – don't you want me to leave?"

"Why?" That same ghost of a smile flitted across his handsome features. "You've just got here."

Their eyes locked properly, and Cadvan realised for the first time just how wrong he had been about this man. He had seen him as a competitor, a rival for Cadvan's place, nothing more. A selfish, grabbing fool. But he was not like that at all. He was a true gentleman. He was a true poet. He was kind, and it wasn't a forced kindness, it was a proper, heart-felt kindness that welled up from the very depths of his being and which he aimed at everyone. He was a man who could see the best in everyone. He was a man who could smile at the person who had scarred him for life, and intentionally as well.

He was nothing like Cadvan. He was better. And Cadvan realised now that he had known this all along, and that was why he had hated him. No one could be better than Cadvan. But Dernhil was.

"By the Light," he heard himself say, and then he realised he was stumbling into the room, up to Dernhil, crouching desperately on the end of the bed. "By the Light, Dernhil, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry – "

Those foolish words again. But he meant them. How he meant them.

"It's fine." His words made Cadvan's throat go dry, and he stared bitterly down at the white covers beneath his hands, his eyes blurring with hot tears.

"No it's not," he rasped out. "You cannot just let this go, you cannot be so good to me, I've scarred you and I've killed her, and I did it and I did it and you can't just – "

His voice gave out in a strange strangled sob and it was only when tears dropped onto his hands that he realised he was crying.

"Cadvan…" Dernhil's hand came out of nowhere and squeezed Cadvan's damp, sweaty one clutching at the covers, then let go gently.

Cadvan forced back his grief with every atom of his will, though he could not look up at Dernhil again. He could see the bandage on Dernhil's side at the corner of his eye, reminding him cruelly of what he had done.

He raised his head and stared at it, at the glaring white patch on Dernhil's chest, running all the way from his hip to his shoulder.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered.

Dernhil glanced at his side, then back at the struggling man on the end of his bed.

"It did at first, but it's all right now."

"You'll be scarred."

"Yes, but its better than it looks."

"No. It's not. It never should have – I never should have – in the first place – and now they – and she's – and you – "

"Cadvan, come on."

"No, you don't - !" He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out completely, inwardly furious at himself for letting go like this, for being so out of control when he always _always _kept everything bottled up, always kept that calm, arrogant, confidence exterior. Nothing _ever _made him lost control like this, not _ever_.

He swallowed hard and let go of the covers, which he had been twisting viciously in his hands.

"I saw you as my rival," he murmured to the bed as a doomed man would murmur to his judge. "I thought only to show that I was better than you. And in so doing I have unleashed Darkness on the world, and I have killed her and I have scarred you. I have proven nothing except that I am worse than you - and by leagues. And she died for me to realise it, and I will never forgive myself, Dernhil, I won't."

Dernhil's hand appeared again and this time brushed Cadvan's jaw with light, frail fingers.

"You are too hard on yourself, my friend."

_My friend…_He had called Cadvan, who had only hated him and hurt him, his _friend._ How could he possibly survive being so good like this, so forgiving?

"I am not," he whispered. "I am a murderer. I am a monster."

"Cadvan," Dernhil said. "Would you look at me?"

Cadvan hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek so hard that he could taste blood on his tongue, then glanced up at Dernhil, sitting before him shrouded in white like some sort of immortal Elidhu, eyes dark with pity. He stared as an avant worshipper would stare at their god personified in front of their eyes.

"You _are_ too hard on yourself," Dernhil said steadily. "You are a good man by far. You have learnt from this. There are many in this world who would not have learnt, who would have twisted this situation in their heads and turned to the Darkness. You do not. You feel shame. You feel guilt. There are those in this world who will never feel guilt. They are the monsters. You are not. You made a mistake, that is all. It was an accident."

"I killed her," Cadvan said hoarsely, unable to pull his gaze away from Dernhil's.

"Yes, but you would never have done it on purpose. You love her."

Cadvan's self control almost slipped again at that word. He bowed his head, weighed down once more by his grief, and could only lift his head when Dernhil's fingers moved under his chin and did it for him.

They stared at each other, both through blurred vision and eyes glazed with tears.

"I don't know how you can forgive me so," Cadvan whispered.

Dernhil smiled that same ghostly, kind, sad smile.

"I forgive you because you are a good man who has done bad things. I would not forgive a bad man who did bad things."

"There are many who will not forgive good men either."

"That is true, my friend. You shall have to live with that."

"I will. I don't care. I deserve it."

"I wish you didn't," Dernhil said quietly.

Cadvan's heart – which had been pounding wildly in his chest for no reason up until now – skipped a beat suddenly. He realised he was not trembling with guilt anymore, but for another reason.

"I'm sorry." He realised he was apologising – _again. _"I'm not – I've never been so – out of control."

"My friend." It was said with new tenderness.

"Am I?" Cadvan choked.

"Oh yes." Dernhil's face was suddenly inches from his. "Always."

Either he moved forward or Cadvan did, he was never quite sure who did what, but either way, Dernhil's lips were suddenly covering his, warm and soft and full. It was not a tentative kiss, or a faint one, it was confident and sweet, and it made the very blood in Cadvan's veins shiver.

They sat like that for a long, silence moment, in that grey, bright room, with Dernhil in his white and Cadvan crouching underneath him, their lips pressed together. Then Dernhil slowly moved back and his fingers left Cadvan's chin and the spell broke.

Cadvan let his head fall heavy again and stared blankly at the bed. Dernhil waited for him to speak, and when he did it was in a croak.

"Can I – come back again?"

Dernhil laughed out loud, a merry sound and brighter than anything else in the room.

"Of course! You are my friend!"

Cadvan scrambled off the bed, his head still down, and walked softly to the door. He opened it, then paused and looked back at Dernhil sitting in his soft, white bed.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

And he smiled.

It was a weak, rather wobbly smile, muscles twitching at the long-abandoned action, but it was still a smile. And it was a start.

He left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Yes, Dernhil mused. It was a smile. It was a start. It would be hard, but it would get better.

It was a start.

What do you think? I actually never really warmed to Dernhil much before I wrote this, but now I realise just _how_ forgiving he had to be to Cadvan and that makes me like him a _whole_ lot more! I'm not sure if the characters were spot on, but then they were both struggling through grief in this scene…

I could write about this scene all day, it has inspired me! Please review, I love criticism!!


End file.
